


Let's Go Get Lost

by jacyevans



Series: and find ourselves [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison, Coming of Age, F/M, First Time, M/M, Multi, Road Trips, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacyevans/pseuds/jacyevans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles still has no idea how they convince their parents to let them drive halfway across the country on their own before their senior year of high school. He’s sure it has less to do with his argument that he and Allison are already eighteen and could legally do what they wanted, and more to do with the sincere but blatantly manipulative sad eyes from Scott as he pointed out that they could all use a break after…</p><p>Everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Go Get Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/gifts).



> Written for inell for the Polyamorous Wolf Exchange, for a mixed bag of her prompts. Not going to lie - when I saw you were my assigned person, I immediately flailed. I've followed you through several fandoms, and really admire your writing, so I wanted to make this something you would love. Here's to hoping you do <3
> 
> I do have a bonus that I did not finish in time, unfortunately, but I am hoping to post it soon.

Three weeks to the end of the summer, Allison plops down on Stiles’ bed. She leans against his side, drops her legs into Scott’s lap and says, "We need to get away for a while. Even if it’s just for a week." She rubs absently at her chest, over the scar carved out down the middle, and Stiles ducks his head.

"I’ve always wanted to see the Grand Canyon," Scott says, cautious and hesitant.

"Such a cliché," Stiles says, rolling his eyes. Scott leaps over Allison and tackles him to the mattress.

He still has no idea how they convince their parents to let them drive halfway across the country on their own before their senior year of high school. He’s sure it has less to do with his argument that he and Allison are already eighteen and could legally do what they want, and more to do with the sincere but blatantly manipulative sad eyes from Scott as he points out that they could all use a break after…

Everything.

He’s been playing Tetris on his phone while talking with his father, letting him know that yes, they’re alive, yes, he’ll be sure to tell Scott to call his mom, no, we don’t need to be bailed out of jail, how could you ever think such a terrible, terrible thing?

Stiles doesn’t need to be home to see his father’s reaction - it’s the same _not buying your bullshit_ face he’s made since Stiles was three and tried to convince his parents that a ghost ate all of the Oreos while he still wore chocolate all over his mouth.

“Two queen beds or one king?”

Stiles glances up from his phone at the motel clerk's question, and Scott hesitates for long enough that Stiles holds his breath.

“Two queens,” Scott says, and Stiles’ heart squeezes in his chest, just this side of too tight. Scott shoots him a questioning glance, Allison tilts her head, and his father says, _Are you even listening to me?_

Stiles shakes his head and sighs, goes back to his conversation.

\--

The motel room stinks.

Stiles wrinkles his nose as soon as they walk inside, pretty sure he’s stepped into a time machine and come out on the bad side of the 1970s.

Kitschy wallpaper? Check. Black and white tube television? Check. Questionable cleanliness? Double check.

Stiles picks up the corner of the bedding to get a better look at what could be a faded color or possibly a blood stain. He tries not to think about it.

“This is…” Scott’s voice trails off as he glances around.

“Perfect,” Allison says, grinning when Scott’s eyes widen.

His nose wrinkles up as he tries to breathe through his mouth. “You wouldn’t say that if you could smell what I smell.”

Stiles drops the corner of the bedspread and jumps back. Allison rolls her eyes.

They stay the night anyway. Allison and Scott curl around each other in the bed closest to the window, whispering in between shared kisses and soft laughter. They’re not officially together yet, but anyone with a pair of eyes can see how much they still love each other.

Stiles rolls to face the wall, clutches his pillow, and tries to sleep. He fails.

\--

They head out early in the morning, grabbing breakfast and coffee to go before heading towards the highway.

Stiles sticks his free hand out the window of the Jeep, letting the warm summer breeze brush through his fingers.

“This was a good idea,” Stiles says, glancing at Allison in the passenger seat. She’s fiddling with the radio, trying to find a station playing something other than static, but she pauses long enough to shoot him a grin.

“Wonder whose idea it was,” she teases, while Scott huffs a laugh from the backseat. 

Stiles rolls his eyes, and Scott flicks his ear.

Stiles slaps Scott's hand away. “Hey! No hitting the driver!”

"You hit me!"

"You hit me first!"

“Children,” Allison sighs, giving up and flicking off the radio, pulling out her phone. She flips through her library and finally settles on a song, leaning back in her seat while Scott sings off key. Stiles groans. Allison laughs.

\--

They stop at the beach at Allison’s request. 

She manages to change in the backseat of the Jeep, then drags Stiles and Scott onto the sand, Scott struggling to tie the strings of his swim trunks one-handed so he doesn’t give the entire beach a free show.

Stiles wouldn’t mind.

She strips her cover-up - one of Scott’s t-shirts - over her head, showing off a purple polka-dotted bikini, the neckline strategically placed so only the edges of her scars show. 

Scott drops his bag to the sand and picks Allison up, tossing her over his shoulder. She slaps at his back, shrieking with laughter when he dumps her into the water. Stiles watches, heart beating hard in his chest.

They’re driving down the highway, Scott asleep in the backseat, when Allison nudges him in the shoulder.

“Hey. What’s wrong? You’ve been quiet all night.”

“Nothing.” Stiles doesn’t look away from the road.

“Liar. Tell me.”

“I’m _fine,_ Allison,” Stiles says, and Allison sighs. She leans back in her seat, kicking her bare feet up onto the dashboard.

“I’m not ashamed, you know.” Stiles’ brow furrows. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Allison gesturing up and down her chest. “Of the scars. They’re just… private. Something to be proud of. They mean I survived.”

The only thing Stiles thinks of when he sees those scars is bloodlust, chaos and pain. The twisted, sucking sound of a sword in Scott’s abdomen, the crunch of Kira’s head against the edge of a table, the scratch of Lydia’s twisted ankle dragging across the ground.

Stiles shudders and shakes his head. He’s gotten better over the past few months about not blaming himself for what happened. Sometimes, the chaos the nogitsune wrought while wearing his body like a tacky prom dress creeps up when he isn’t paying attention. “I wish I could see it like that,” he says, voice cracking. Allison reaches for his hand and squeezes tight.

\--

The Sierra Nevada mountains loom on the horizon, tall and grey and intimidating, yet strangely peaceful. Stiles hums to the music, following Allison’s muttered directions to their reserved campsite, where Scott tries to put up their tent despite never having gone camping in his life. 

“Such a fail wolf,” Stiles says when the support pole fails to stay standing straight again.

“Shut up, Stiles!” Scott snaps, but he’s side-eyeing the tent so hard, Stiles can’t take him seriously. 

Allison huffs a laugh, taking over with a gentle smile that makes Stiles’ stomach turn over. He turns his gaze back to the fire he’s building, warming his palms on the low flames.

After, when they’ve stuffed themselves full of s’mores, the light starting to fade as the sun sets on the horizon, Allison lies back in the grass, using Stiles’ thigh as a pillow. She closes her eyes, face turned up to soak what’s left of the setting sun. There’s a smatter of freckles dusted across her cheeks that Stiles never noticed before; he barely resists the urge to drag his finger down the slope of her nose.

Scott lies on Stiles’ other leg, arching his neck and kissing the crown of Allison’s head. He settles with his eyes closed, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

He nudges Stiles in the hip with his elbow. “Isn’t this awesome?” he asks, and Stiles smiles, gaze finally cutting away from Scott’s face to the sun burning up the sky. His heart beats just a little faster.

“Yeah. Awesome.”

Stiles lies down slowly, careful not to dislodge either of their heads from his lap. He stares up at the sky, absently brushing his fingers through both Allison and Scott’s hair, chest too tight.

In the morning, he wakes with Scott at his back, his hands a hot, possessive brand against his hips. Allison is curled up against his chest with her hands fisted in his shirt.

Stiles doesn’t dare move or even breathe for fear of waking up and finding out this is a dream.

“Go back to sleep, dude,” Scott mutters, and to his surprise, Stiles does.

\--

Of course, not everything is perfect. 

Scott’s singing drove Stiles to drink when they were all of a hundred miles outside of California. By the time they hit Arizona, his jaw hurts from how hard he’s been clenching his teeth.

His phone vibrates and he scowls when he glances down at the screen, hitting ignore and shoving the phone back into his pocket.

“Derek again?” Allison asks, and Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“I regret ever giving that man free reign to text me. He might communicate via grunts and eyebrow wiggles in real life, but he texts more than I do.”

“Not possible,” Scott says, grinning when Stiles makes an aborted attempt to punch his shoulder.

“No punching the driver.”

“I hate your face,” Stiles says, glancing out the window. The views are spectacular, tall evergreens and lush, green fields, wildflowers blooming on the side of the road. The air smells cleaner, and he takes a deep breath, smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

Allison leans forwards, perching her chin beside his headrest. “Did you two ever… you know.”

Stiles blinks, brain squeaking to a stop before rolling back into Conversation Station. He shrugs, yanking at the carton wedged into one of the cup holders he jury-rigged with cardboard and duct tape until it pulls free. He throws up a victory arm when nothing spills. “We made out a few times. We didn’t fuck, if that’s what you mean.”

Allison’s lips jut out into a pout. “Pity. That would be hot.”

Stiles spits his orange juice all over the dashboard and Allison smirks.

Scott chuckles and shakes his head, repeating the song for the tenth time, rolling the window down and singing even louder. Stiles grits his teeth and figures this was inevitable - no one could be in close quarters for this long without having _something_ to complain about. 

He certainly isn’t complaining about the fact that Scott and Allison don’t sleep in their own bed anymore. Stiles has no idea why Scott even bothers asking for a room with two beds, but Stiles doesn’t want to ask, afraid he might take his question as complaint, or realize they’ve crossed the line from friendly into Something Else.

Something that makes him whisper into the dark all of the thoughts he never voiced aloud; thoughts he never planned on telling anyone.

“I don’t want to go back. Not to school. Not to Beacon Hills. Not even to California.”

Allison strokes a strand of hair back from his forehead. “Why?” 

He shakes his head; can’t look her in the eye when he says, “It’s a reminder. Of everything we lost.”

Scott shakes his head against Stiles’ shoulder, squeezing his wrist. “No. It’s a reminder of everything we won.”

“You have to say that,” Stiles scoffs, “You’re the alpha.”

“And they were as much your pack as they were mine.”

Stiles turns his head enough to glance at Scott out of the corner of his eye, gets distracted when he licks his lips.

“What?” Scott arches an eyebrow. “No comeback?”

Stiles’ face flushes, sure he’s been caught out; heat creeps down his neck. “Shut up.”

“I’m impressed,” Allison teases, “Or should I be looking for pods?”

“I hate you both.”

\--

The Grand Canyon reminds him of his mother.

He isn’t even entirely sure why; he’s standing on the edge of one of the overlooks, leaning against the rail. The sun is setting over the canyon, throwing colors across the sky like a watercolor painting. He feels tiny and insignificant in comparison.

Stiles snaps a photo and sends it to his dad without a caption, pocketing his phone and rubbing at his eyes.

“Hey,” Allison asks, frowning. She squeezes his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Stiles scoffs, “Yeah. Must be sand in my eyes or something.”

Scott comes up from behind, wraps his arms around Stiles' waist, and presses his forehead between his shoulderblades.

He understands, without Stiles having to say a word. Scott always does.

Scott parks the car in one of the rest areas that night. Stiles wishes there was a sunroof so they could fall asleep under the stars, satisfies himself with rolling all of the windows down.

Allison lies down in the backseat. Stiles pushes his seat back, starting to get comfortable, when she lifts her head, gazing at him in question.

“What?” he says, and she huffs, tugging on his arm until he practically falls into the back. She maneuvers them around until Stiles is lying on his back, Allison on top of him with her head on his chest.

“Better,” she says, and he rolls his eyes.

“Sure, you get the comfy human pillow,” he mutters, even as he drags his fingers through her hair. She smiles, eyelashes fluttering as she shuts her eyes, breathing starting to even out.

Scott watches them from the driver’s seat, eyes soft and fond, pushes his seat back far enough that he can hold Stiles’ hand and not let go.

\--

They spend their last day on the beach, staring out at the sun and sand and surf. Allison leans against the railing, closes her eyes and turns her face up to the sky.

“I’m going to miss this,” she says, and Stiles swallows hard, memorizing the exact way the sun catches the freckles on her face, the way her lashes shudder as she breathes, full lips twisted up into a smile.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, “Me, too.”

Allison opens her eyes slowly, tilting her head down, examining Stiles the way she would an arrow on the bowstring. She leans forwards, lips meeting his in a kiss so soft, he shakes.

“Allison,” Stiles says, voice cracking, “Are you sure?” 

She sighs. “No.” 

Stiles’ heart pounds in the split second’s pause between when she finishes talking and Scott presses a hand to his jaw just under his ear, twisting his head around so he can press a tender kiss to his lips.

“ _We’re_ sure,” he says, and Stiles glances to where Allison is nodding with a soft smile.

A dam breaks inside of Stiles, cracking down the middle. He cups her face in his hands, kisses her with wild abandon, fingers getting caught up in her hair, her dress, slipping down the slope of her back to grip her hips. Scott kisses the back of his neck, arms a tight band around his waist.

They somehow make their way down to the beach and under the boardwalk without ever really separating, hands gripping wrists, kisses dropped to lips and bared shoulders. 

Stiles grunts as Allison pushes him against one of the support beams, yanking his shirt over his head. She hitches one of her legs around his until he lifts her up, hands gripping under her thighs as her arms circle his neck. 

Scott presses against her back, taking most of the weight off of Stiles’ hands, arms wrapped so tight around her waist that they can grip at Stiles’ sides. He noses along Allison’s throat, tugging her dress aside with his teeth until he can nip at the skin of her shoulder.

“Sand,” Stiles pants, “Inappropriate places.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Allison says, rolling her hips against his so his eyes roll back in his head and he groans into her mouth.

Scott’s hands slip up her dress, untying one side of her bathing suit bottoms, when his head snaps up.

“Hey!” Someone shouts, and Stiles’ eyes widen, the back of the lifeguard’s bright red bathing suit trunks trekking off into the distance as he gets the attention of a nearby police officer.

“Oh shit,” Allison says, laughter filling her voice as she jumps to the ground.

“My shirt, my shirt,” Stiles says, while Allison grips his hand and tugs him along, holding her bathing suit to her hips as they flee. 

Stiles leaps over a child’s sandcastle and goes sprawling in the sand, while the kid claps her hands and laughs at his plight.

“Come on, come on,” Scott says, giggling as he tugs Stiles to his feet, practically dragging Stiles up the stairs to the boardwalk, down to where Allison already has the Jeep idling. Scott leaps into the back, Stiles into the front, and she peels out of the parking lot before he has the door fully closed.

Stiles leans his head back and catches his breath before he snaps his seat-belt into place, turning to slap Scott in the shoulder. “Fucker. You owe me a new t-shirt.”

Allison _cackles._  


\--

They don’t make it to a motel.

The Jeep is almost out of gas, and Stiles keeps touching Allison while she’s trying to drive. Scott presses a kiss to the back of her neck, and she almost runs them off of the road.

There’s a campsite coming up on the left, closed for renovations, the sign old and weather beaten and the path overgrown. 

Allison says, “Fuck it,” jerking the wheel and spinning them onto the dirt road. They drive until they can’t anymore, and Allison jumps out, losing her bathing suit bottoms when she stands.

She tosses them back into the Jeep with a wink. Stiles almost swallows his tongue.

She pitches their tent in the time it takes him to finally convince his body to move, wrangle up their sleeping bags, and hand them off. 

Scott doesn’t kiss him so much as fall against him, shoving Stiles back against the Jeep. He cups Stiles’ face in his hand, face scrunched up as he kisses Stiles again and again, soft, gentle. Stiles grips the back of Scott’s neck, tugging him forwards so he can press a hard, desperate kiss to his mouth. 

Scott’s fingers grip Stiles’ waist, lift him up like he weighs nothing at all. Stiles wraps his legs around his hips, crossing his ankles at his back.

“You know,” he pants against Scott’s mouth, “That whole Superman thing is pretty hot.”

Stiles squeaks as Scott carries him to the tent and unceremoniously dumps him down onto the floor, rolling his eyes. 

He reaches over his shoulder, grabbing the collar of his t-shirt and tugging it over his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Your abs are ridiculous,” Stiles says, staring at his friend’s stomach. “Jesus, it’s like you’re Photoshopped.”

“I thought you didn’t like rom-coms.”

“I—don’t,” Stiles says, eyes darting to the side. Scott snorts, bending down and pressing Stiles into the ground with the weight of his body. 

“Liar,” he mutters before darting forwards to kiss him again.

“Your face is a liar,” Stiles grumbles, both of their heads swiveling to the side when Allison chokes out a laugh.

She’s standing beside them with her hands on her hips. “You’re both ridiculous,” she says, pushing at Scott’s shoulder until he moves so she can straddle Stiles’ thighs.

She slowly drags her eyes from his face to the waistband of his trunks, then back again, and Stiles flushes at the way her lips part. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she says, lightly dragging her nails up his stomach. “Have you been hiding this under your clothes the entire time?”

“Yes,” Scott says at the same time Stiles says, “No.” 

Scott scoffs. “Please. Do you know how hard it was for me to keep my hands off of you in the locker room this year?”

“Pun intended?” He wiggles his eyebrows and smirks. Allison grabs his hand, pressing it to Scott’s crotch, so his hard cock presses against Stiles’ palm.

Stiles scratches at the material, and Scott hisses, hips jerking. He starts to pull his hand away, but Allison only presses down harder.

“Kiss him,” Scott breathes, voice hoarse. “I want to see you together.”

Allison leans forwards with none of her earlier hesitation, kiss wet and hot, the way she grips his back and rolls her body against his downright pornographic. She lets go of Stiles’ hand in favor of tugging at his hair.

He kicks off his shoes, and Allison grunts as he accidentally knees her in the side.

“Sorry,” he says.

Allison shakes her head. “That’s okay. I didn’t need that rib anyway.”

Scott chuckles, and Stiles looks over just in time to watch him push his shorts down his legs.

“Holy shit,” he says, staring at Scott’s cock, smaller than his own but thicker; there’s a tan line from his swim trunks, leaving his skin several shades lighter than the rest of his body, standing out even more against the dark thatch of hair.

“I’d like to thank God, and also Jesus,” Stiles says, when his tongue finally unties, gasping when Allison slips her hands down to his waistband, brushing against his cock. 

“Oops,” she says, eyes glittering so he can’t help but kiss her again. Scott sits, but he doesn’t make a move to join them, seeming content to watch. 

Allison shifts off of his lap so he can wriggle out of his trunks. He moves to tug them off of his ankles, and a wave of uncertainty crashes into him, leaving him paralyzed.

Allison cocks her head to the side, and he clears his throat.

“You know, you’re looking a little overdressed,” he says, and Allison smirks, gripping the hem of her dress in a slow tease that leaves both Stiles and Scott leaning forwards, unable to turn away.

Stiles’ eyes zero in on the edge of the scar he always knew was there; the oni’s sword pierced the center of her chest, but the scar spans the length of her sternum and a few inches below, still pink and raised against her skin. 

He reaches out to touch, hand falling back to his side at the last second, but Allison reaches for his wrist, pressing his fingers to the bottom edge.

“Stiles, it’s okay,” she whispers, carding a hand through his hair.

Stiles shakes his head, tugging her down and rolling so she lies beneath him. He cups her ribs, slides his shaking hands up and over her back until he reaches the the tie at the back of her bathing suit top.

Allison nods when he pauses, arching her neck enough that he can tug the top over her head, away and off. Stiles can’t help staring at her breasts, the small, tan nipples.

Scott grips the back of his neck, thumb rubbing up just behind his ear. 

“Go ahead,” he says, voice lacking the authority he was no doubt going for. Stiles bets if he turns around, Scott’s eyes will be red. “Touch her.”

Stiles ducks his head down, holding Allison’s gaze as he slowly kisses his way along the scar, licking at the rough skin so Allison gasps and arches up, hand twisting in his hair. 

He nips at her collarbone, one hand cupping her breast, rubbing his thumb over the nipple. Scott’s hand slides down his back, over the curve of his ass to rub over his hole, and Stiles jerks. He stares down at Allison with wide eyes.

“Hey,” she strokes her thumb under his jaw, “We don’t have to do this tonight.”

“No,” Stiles says, cutting her off before she finishes the last word. She smirks. “No, he just startled me, is all.” He huffs a laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “I lose both of my virginites at once. Go me.”

Allison rolls her eyes. Stiles waggles his eyebrows, gasping when Scott starts to open him up, pressing a wet finger inside him.

“Dude,” Stiles gasps, “When did you get lube?”

“I used my super-powers,” Scott says, and Stiles’ response cuts off when Allison nips at his throat.

“He stole the bottle from your duffel while we were making out,” Allison says.

Stiles grins. “Aw, I knew there was a little bit of me in you somewhere.”

“You know, technically it’s the other way around. Or it’s going to be.”

Stiles cranes his head around and away from Allison’s mouth. She huffs, while he stares at Scott, mouth opening and closing in wordless sounds. “Oh my god,” he manages, “That was so bad, I have no words.”

He cries out when Allison thumbs up under the head of his cock. “If that’s what rendered you speechless, then I must be doing something wrong.”

“No.” He gasps when she strokes him slowly, down to the base. “Everything is right. So right. Perfectly - right. Please don’t stop doing that.”

“Well, since you said please,” she teases, dragging his head down so she can kiss him again. Scott kisses between his shoulderblades as he slowly adds another finger.

Stiles distracts himself by trailing kisses across Allison’s throat, one of his hands sliding down her stomach to hesitantly press against her clit. She gasps, arching her neck back. 

“Circles,” she gasps, and Stiles moves his thumb in slow, firm circles, using his other hand to support himself so he can watch her face as he slides a finger inside her. Her hand falls away from his dick, which is fine by him - he doesn’t think he would have lasted much longer, not with the way Scott is twisting his fingers. 

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” Stiles whispers, and Scott groans, scissoring his fingers inside of Stiles.

“He’s touching himself,” Allison says, and Stiles’ cock jerks as he drops his face into her neck with a moan.

“You can’t just say things like that, Allison,” Scott says, adding more lube to ease the way for a third finger, hooking them over the rim, the burn less than pleasant. Allison scrapes one nail over his nipple so he almost collapses on top of her.

“He started it,” she says; Stiles bites at her shoulder, making her jolt, pushing her hips harder onto his fingers.

Scott grunts, taking his sweet time opening Stiles up. He crooks his fingers, and Stiles sees stars, white hot and bursting across his eyelids.

“Christ, Scott, I’m ready, just put it in me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Scott croaks, moving back, while Allison squirms out from under Stiles. He makes grabby hands, while Scott urges him up; even through the bedroll, the ground is hard against his knees. 

“Of course, you would choose doggy style,” he jokes, and Scott answers by sliding into Stiles, slowly, carefully, the stretch almost too much to take. He’s trembling by the time Scott bottoms out.

“Okay?” Scott breathes, and Stiles nods, unable to form words.

Scott tugs him up until Stiles is seated in his lap, sliding onto his cock impossibly further. Allison throws her legs over his thighs, and he whimpers.

“Oh god.”

“Nope. Just Allison.”

Scott whines against his back. “You’re not allowed to make Stiles jokes. Stiles isn’t even allowed to make Stiles jokes.”

“I resent that,” he manages to choke out as Allison grips the base of his cock, using his shoulder for leverage as she settles herself down.

She rains kisses all over his face, Scott caressing his fingers up and down his sides. “You okay?” she asks, and Stiles nods.

“Yeah,” he says; his voice cracks. 

Then they both start to move, and Stiles can’t do much more than feel. When he tries to move his hips, Scott squeezes his waist so tight, there will no doubt be bruises in the morning, claws just barely pricking at his skin.

“No,” Scott growls out, scraping fangs over the back of Stiles’ neck. That should not get Stiles nearly so hot. “This is for you.”

Allison doesn’t kiss him so much as breathe against his mouth, squeezes herself around his cock at the same time Scott somehow manages to find his prostate. Fire shoots down his spine, and he comes with a shout, light bursting behind his eyes. Scott pumps into him twice more before he groans, hips stuttering to a stop. He pants against Stiles’ back.

Allison grips one of Stiles’ shoulders, giving herself leverage, and Stiles pries his eyes open in time to watch her slip her fingers between her legs, deftly working her clit. 

“I’m-- I’m--” She moans, head tipping back to display the line of her throat as she slows to a stop. Stiles would kiss her neck, if he had the energy to move. 

Allison slumps forwards, forehead pressed against his chest as she catches her breath. Eventually, she moves up and off, and Stiles makes a face, collapsing onto the sleeping bag face-first. She chuckles, pushing and shoving at his arm until he rolls onto his side, allowing her to curl up against his chest. Scott hits the ground with a thump, arms winding around Stiles’ waist as he presses his face into his shoulder.

“I think my ass is chafed,” Stiles mutters into his arm. “Scotty, can you tell me if my ass is chafed?”

“Your ass s’not chafed,” Scott mutters into his skin. He hugs him close, like his own personal, human-shaped teddy bear. “Now, shut up and go to sleep.”

Stiles scoffs, heart betraying his anxiety as his happiness begins to vanish into thin air. He’s afraid to fall asleep. Afraid he’ll wake up, and this will all have been a dream.

“Go to sleep,” Allison whispers, tucking her head under his chin. “We’ll still be here when you wake up.” Stiles’s breath shudders out, but he wraps an arm around her waist and closes his eyes.

\--

Allison is already awake when Stiles opens his eyes. She gives him a gentle smile, leaning down to kiss him before moving to finish getting dressed. She nudges Scott in the knee with her foot, and Scott groans, prying his eyes open and muttering under his breath as he follows suit.

They can’t stop touching each other as they roll up the sleeping bags - a kiss here, a stroke to the shoulder there, but they’re quiet, gentle, none of them willing to fracture the space of stillness and peace they’ve woven.

Allison huffs a laugh when Stiles trips over his own shoes, and that breaks the spell. 

“Such a klutz,” Scott says, smile disgustingly fond.

Stiles shoves him in the shoulder. “Bite me, jerkface.”

Scott shoves him back. “You’re the jerkface, jerkface.”

“Remind me why I’m friends with you again,” Allison sighs as she finishes taking down the tent. She rolls it up and shoves the pieces into the bag.

Scott bats his eyelashes. “Because you looooove us,” he sings; Stiles cracks up.

“Against my better judgement,” she says, reaching out to squeeze both of their hands as she leads them back to the Jeep.

\--

When they finally make it to a motel, before the clerk can even ask, Scott says, “One king.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Road Trippin'" by Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Working title was "OH GOD, PUBLIC PORN, WHY" so please be gentle with your criticism.
> 
> A million thanks to eeyore9990 for helping me get some pertinent questions answered, to thatworldinverted for listening to me flail, giving me some awesome ideas, and assuring me that yes, the porn was good, and to dream-mancer for talking me down from the ledge while pointing out all of my Jeep inaccuracies and encouraging me to cut things, even if they were my favorites.
> 
> Most important, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to the mods for being so very, very patient with me this entire summer <3 You're awesome, lovely people.
> 
> Once again, inell, thanks for the awesome prompts, and I really hope you enjoyed this <3
> 
> Come hang out with me on [tumblr!](http://jacyevans.tumblr.com)


End file.
